


this might be paradise

by poise



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Far Future, Guns, Implied Sexual Content, Inspired by Cyberpunk 2077, Inspired by Deadly Class, Knives, M/M, More tags to be added, Secret Societies, Slight Violence, homoerotic swordfighting, ratings will change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:54:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28090467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poise/pseuds/poise
Summary: Renjun gets caught up in a wave of trouble as he enrols into an academy for upcoming assassins with absolutely no reputation to his name. It sounds like social, if not literal, suicide in a school like King’s Dominion.This might arguably the worst (or best, according to Donghyuck) way to start the school year.
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Na Jaemin
Comments: 15
Kudos: 96





	1. the atelier

**Author's Note:**

> my brain saw the renmin photo shoot and thought... what if sexy sword-fighting..? but make it futuristic.

They say that man is the only creature that refuses to be what he is. But when Renjun pulls back and watches himself intently in his sad excuse of a mirror, all he sees is fragments of himself—pieced together like a puzzle. He stares, long and hard, wondering what he might piece together, hoping to find a whole man behind those bleak eyes. 

The scar that runs through his forehead and stops in between his eyes, reminds him that he was once a naive child who believed too much in the world and the kindness of people. The gun that hangs at his hip reminds him that he is no longer that child. At the age of 19, Renjun should be at his peak in a city like this. Glam City is the hub of cutting edge technology, bustling with wild spirits and the greatest minds this century has to offer. But beneath this beautiful facade of lights and music, stemmed from the heart of the city is corruption, seen only by those who were unlucky enough to witness it. This city only serves the top of the food chain, the lucky bastards ruthless enough to reach the top. 

To Renjun, this feels more like the edge of his downfall than the start of his peak.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Get in and get out, that was as much of a plan as he needed. 

Renjun crouches down and waits intently in the drab alleyway until his thighs burn and his stomach growls, reminding him of why he’s here in the first place. He’s done this close to a hundred times, but it’s nerve-wracking every time. Getting caught for shoplifting doesn’t exactly leave you with a lenient punishment as it did in the past. It could get you thrown in jail (Renjun’s been there, it’s not _that_ bad. Plus free food and a place to stay) or worse, you could get your gun taken, and Renjun has worked hard labour for his gun—it’s all he has.

His stomach growls again and leaves a pinching sensation that travels up to his chest. He’s hungry and right now, jail doesn’t sound too bad for a bite of an energy bar. 

With his gun securely at his hip, Renjun pulls his ID out and scans it at the front of the store. It’s some random ID he swiped from that poor bastard that hit on him outside of a club. Poor man, he had thought as he breezed through the wallet until he spotted a picture of a kid at the front. Maybe not.

Renjun switches IDs at least once a month. He’s always on the run and over time, he’s learned that being someone for too long is dangerous. 

The shopkeeper gives him a glance and goes back to her newspaper as soon as he enters. He’s never been here before so it takes a second for him to navigate his way through the snack aisle. His stomach growls a happy ‘thank you!’ when he slips two energy bars under his jacket and grabs a cheaper one to pay for. The trick is to never walk out of the store without at least buying something. Which is why Renjun always picks the cheapest item to pay for. Better getting three for the price of one rather than getting caught.

He shakes out some cash from that old wallet he stole and passes it over the register, not glancing back as he grabs the bar and heads for the entrance. 

The woman’s scratchy voice stops him in place. 

Renjun’s been caught a few times, but he can’t afford it this time, literally. 

He turns to the woman sitting by the register, her red, uneven bangs almost covering her eyes completely. “Wait,” she says. And Renjun does. He notices how his heartbeat doesn’t obey her command, jackrabbiting in his chest. It feels like forever under these fluorescent lights and her scrutinizing gaze. Maybe he can still make it out, he’s only a few steps away from the exit anyway. He can make a run for it, ditch the ID and go all the way to the other side of the city. 

“Your change.” She finally says, almost bored as she pushes the remaining few pennies onto the counter and gets back to her newspaper. Renjun lets himself breathe and grabs the pennies, muttering a thank you and slipping out the sliding doors as fast as he could. 

He’s never felt more relieved to feel the crispy air hit his skin as he steps out. Three snack bars, that’s tonight’s dinner and tomorrow’s meals covered. If Renjun is feeling particularly celebratory, he’ll even have one for breakfast tomorrow. 

His victory is short-lived when someone bumps into his shoulder, sending his energy bars flying to the ground. He doesn’t even have time to get mad as he’s backed up against the alley wall, all air knocked out of his lungs. 

By the time he’s able to haul himself back to his feet, he’s falling immediately after and sees double of the silhouette standing over him. Or triple, he doesn’t know at this point. All he registers is the heaviness of his eyelids and the searing pain at the back of his head.

Then, nothing.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He wakes up to the sound of muttering and hushed voices careful enough not to jostle him awake. 

The searing pain at the back of his head is dulled to a more throbbing beat and the first thing Renjun registers is the fact that he’s bound to a chair, and his gun is nowhere near him. He can’t even reach up to rub at his eyes, but he attempts blinking hard enough to rid of his blurry vision. 

He’s in a dim room, and from what he can see, it’s small with barely any windows. Perfect place for some street rat to die, Renjun thinks. But who would go out of their way to take out some useless street rat? He wouldn’t put it past the police, but it’s not like they care about justice. Just like everyone else in this city, they’re controlled by the top of the system. 

He sees a shadow of two doors behind large curtains and hears silent murmuring past them. There’s music bouncing off somewhere, techno and soft, but it tells him he’s at least still in the city. He tries moving around, pulling at the ropes behind him silently enough not to alert whoever was past those large curtains. Renjun has made it this far in life all alone, he’s not ready to die in some dingy storeroom at the hands of faceless murderers.

He manages to slip one hand out before the sound of footsteps stops him in his tracks. His body falls limp by instinct and he shuts his eyes closed, going back to his previous position, but doesn’t wiggle his hand back in place. He remains high on alert, ready to spring anytime he needs as he hears the murmuring and shuffling get louder, closer. He can even hear the curtains sweeping against the rough floor like they’re being pushed aside.

A sharp, _Wake him up!_ , reaches his ears and before Renjun could completely brace himself, a stinging slap greets him across his left cheek. He jolts, yelling and caught completely off guard until his eyes meet a softer and rounder pair. The first thing he thinks of is how numb the left side of his face has become and the throbbing beat in his head had returned to a more ringing noise. The second thing he thinks about is how innocent this killer looks. They’re tall with small, doe eyes, small lips and dark brown hair—no modifications, no new parts, nothing. They don’t look like they belong in Glam City at all. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I thought you were still asleep.” They stutter over their words, eyes blown wide as they inspect Renjun’s swelling red cheek. 

“Leave him be, Jisung. He’ll survive.”

Renjun’s eyes shift to the person standing behind Jisung—one of them at least—the one with electric blue hair and sharp features. This time he notices how almost everyone in the room looks as young as he is, no more than 20 years old at least. 

Jisung steps back, but not without offering an apologetic smile at Renjun. Weird. If they weren’t here to kill him, what was he doing here anyway?

“Why am I here?” Renjun tries to hide the quiver in his voice as he asks.

“Relax.” Another one speaks up from where they’re sitting down, dark blue hair with streaks of light blue colouring their bangs. They look almost as pale as Renjun does and a little metallic around the edges. 

He huffs out a response, “I’m tied to a chair in a room of strangers without my gun. You try being me and relaxing.”

“Oh, feisty. I like this one, Jen.” Renjun sends that one a glare. Four people and not one person has told him what's going on. Renjun’s starting to become quite sick of this.

Sensing his hostility, the one with electric blue hair (Jen, if Renjun was paying attention), clears his throat. 

“Look, we’re sorry about the chair. And hiding your gun.” He says, getting a glance at Renjun’s throbbing cheek. “... And the slap. But we brought you here for a reason. There’s someone that wants to meet you.”

“Look, I don’t owe anyone any money.”

“It’s not about money.”

“Then what? You want me to admit that I stole a couple of energy bars from some convenience store?”

“Not exactly, although that is cute.” The one beside him says, laughing, and even from the dim lighting Renjun can see the pretty moles that dot his cheeks down to his neck. 

The sound of curtains sweeping against the floor again buzzes in Renjun’s ear like an alarm bell and he snaps his head towards the source. 

Emerging from the drab curtains is a middle-aged man with strong features and a beard starting to grow around the edge of his chin. He doesn’t look older than 40, but the fatigue in his face makes him look double his age. He has a metallic arm, not coated in anything to appear synthetic and somehow it makes him look all the more intimidating. 

The four strangers immediately stand a little taller, turning to the man and giving him a small bow of acknowledgement. He nods but keeps his attention solely fixed on Renjun as Renjun tries not to squirm under his gaze. 

“You’re here for me.” The man says, calm as ever with a voice as deep and thick as mahogany. “It’s nice to meet you, Renjun. I’m Mr Percival.”

If there’s anything Renjun has learned from the streets, it’s that you don’t trust people with fancy, white names. So, he gives the man a pointed look and puts on his most intimidating face. 

“Why am I here? What do you want from me?”

The pale boy with blue streaks in his hair hauls over a chair and positions it right in front of Renjun, and he watches as Mr Percival walks over to take a seat on it, murmuring _‘Thank you, Chenle.’_ as he settles himself in. 

“It’s not a case of what I want _from_ you. It’s what I can do _for_ you.”

“I don’t need anyone to do anything for me. I’m fine on my own.” Renjun admits stubbornly, no matter how wrong the words tasted in his mouth. He’s not doing fine on his own, but it’s always better to struggle alone than being in debt with some random cult. 

“You have potential, Renjun.” Mr Percival starts, wise and slow as if he’s never known disorder.

“We’ve been tracking you for weeks now. We’ve seen what you can do and we’re interested. See I run an academy that helps train kids like you, and make them great—like them.” He cocks his head to the four standing behind him. “Individuals that are driven to their greatest potential. Future leaders and the only justice this city will ever know.”

Renjun cocks his eyebrow, all nervousness flushed from his face. “Kids like me? You mean, criminals?”

“We prefer assassins. I know it sounds like an odd request. One minute you were strolling down an alleyway with your dinner in hand and the next, you’re bound to a chair, listening to a stranger offering you an opportunity of a lifetime. It’s a lot to take in, but as I said, I can help. I can give you a roof to stay under and hot food on the table every day. All you have to do is do what you do best and more.” 

A moment passes and Renjun feels guilty for even contemplating it. He can lie to everyone else, but he’s always made it a fact to never lie to himself. Hot food every day does sound nice. A place to stay… His current living situation isn’t exactly the best, but he gets by every day. 

But it’s been so long since he’s stuck around adults, all they’ve ever done was disappoint him. Why would this man in a suit be any different? 

“And if I refuse, are you going to kill me? Gun me down like every other poor kid that turns down your insane proposals?” He bites back and hides the fear behind his voice. Frankly, something about Mr Percival doesn’t strike him as someone who’d do such a thing, but then again, Renjun _is_ the one tied to a chair and looks can be deceiving. He of all people would know that. 

“We’re not a cult, Renjun. We’re an academy. An institution that students willingly enrol in. And we’re not barbaric either.”

Mr Percival lets out a huff and rubs a thumb against his metallic arm. “You may think you know everything there is to know about this city, Renjun. You’ve lived in the streets almost all your life, you know it like the back of your hand. But I can assure you, there is always more to learn.” 

Renjun doesn’t want to learn more. He just wants to eat the stupid energy bars he earned and feel the comforting weight of a gun at his hip again. And maybe take a nap. 

“Let me go. I’ve heard enough.”

He doesn’t expect the scoff that escapes past Chenle’s lips, quickly silenced by the sight of Mr Percival’s hand in the air. 

“You heard him. Cut him loose.” 

Chenle grunts, but fishes out his knife anyway. It’s one of those fancy laser blades that Renjun has been dying to steal off the drunks in the club. He never manages to come close enough though before they catch him red-handed. 

A quick _zip_ is heard before the bonds loosen and he sighs in relief once they come undone, rubbing at his stinging wrists. 

“What about my gun?” He asks immediately. 

Mr Percival gives him a nod before Chenle hands him his gun back. Feeling it’s familiar weight in his hands, Renjun feels at ease for the first time that night. 

He becomes hyper-aware of the fact that he’s standing in a room full of people packing iron just as much as he is, if not more. 

“I won’t speak of this to anyone. Let’s never see each other again.” He secures his gun tightly at his hip, within arms reach and makes his way past the big, sweeping curtains, but not before bumping into Chenle’s shoulder. 

He doesn’t stop walking until he feels the crispy night wind blowing onto his face and the thumping of music in the air. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


They _had_ dragged him to the other side of the city, Renjun learns after he starts walking a few blocks and doesn’t recognize any of the buildings around him. 

He grumbles after every step he takes when he feels the soles of his feet start to go numb. He must’ve dropped his wallet when they knocked the living daylights out of him in that alley because now he doesn’t have any cash to get a ride back to his apartment (It’s barely an apartment, but it’s… something). This is all just starting to wear him down.

His apartment is really is just a rooftop with a blanket hung between two metal bars but it’s as close to a home as Renjun has ever had in years. It gets a little cold at night, but there’s a nice view, plus you’re less likely to get robbed in high places, so it isn’t that bad. It’s an old apartment complex that’s been around for a couple of decades and the security is pretty easy to breach if you’re smart enough, so to him, that just sounds like free real estate. 

Renjun hops up the fire escape on the 6th floor and climbs up to the rooftop, feet burning and throat scratching for a sip of water. He pushes past the roof door and almost moans in delight just looking at his old mattress haphazardly thrown against the dirty floor. On any other day, he would complain about the hard, cold floor, but today was tiring. More tiring than usual and all he wanted was to sit down. 

He had a lot of time to think on the way back, and as Renjun lies down with a huff, he replays today's events in his mind like a broken record. He bounces off the pros and cons in his head. Was he too eager to turn down the offer? He knows he wasn’t wrong to doubt them, he wouldn’t be alive today if he didn’t live trusting his gut. But was it his gut talking this time? Or was he just scared? 

Over the years, Renjun has grown accustomed to change, but never the good kind of change. Sometimes, he thinks the good kind of change scares him more than the bad ones because you can never hit rock bottom twice, but it’s so easy to slip and fall when you’re at your best. 

“Damn, you turned down the offer for _this_?” A sudden voice crashes his train of thought and Renjun jolts off the mattress by instinct, hand already flying to his gun. 

“Relax, dude.” The voice mocks him with a laugh and he’s finally able to catch a glimpse of the person leaning on the rail to peep over the ledge. It’s one of the guys from earlier, the one with reddish-brown hair and pretty moles dotting his cheeks down to his neck. Renjun never caught his name. 

“Were you following me? I already turned down your offer.” Renjun says with an exaggerated huff, hand still steady on his gun.

“Or are you here to finish the job and kill me?”

The boy gives him a side-eye, as if Renjun had offended him over something small, and not accused him of possible murder. 

“Man, you’re intense.” He says before going back to the view of the city. “Percival doesn’t know I’m here. I just got curious.”

Renjun starts to get agitated. “About?”

The other turns to him, flashing a smile, all moxie. “Why you’d turn down such an offer. I came here thinking I’d find an endless supply of booze, or maybe someone pretty you’d risk the world for. Did not expect to find… well, an empty shithole, to put it lightly.”

“That’s not putting it lightly.”

He laughs, irking Renjun even further. “Yeah, I know. Jaemin always says I’m no good at filtering.”

He finally turns away from the city’s skyline, walking closer to Renjun and unexpectedly holds a hand out for him to shake. “I’m Donghyuck, but most people just call me Hyuck. I’d ask you what your name was, but considering I know where you live and almost everything about you, I think that’d just be awkward.”

This Donghyuck guy talks way too much for Renjun’s liking, but at least he talks enough for the both of them because he isn’t in the mood for a light conversation. “You don’t know everything about me.”

“Ugh, you’re one of those guys.” Donghyuck shakes his head and plops down onto the mattress uninvited. He doesn’t seem to have any semblance of boundaries at all, Renjun grumbles silently. 

“Fine. I _don’t_ know everything about you. I know the Huang Renjun Percival has been keeping track with, but I don’t know who you are. The deep stuff. There, happy?”

Renjun wants to shove him in his face and take a nap, but the clear outline of a gun under Donghyuck’s jacket stops him from making rash decisions. He hates that he can’t figure this guy out as fast as he can with the others. Donghyuck could say the vilest things with a kind smile on his face, no sarcasm present at all. It’s unnerving. 

“Look, are you done invading my privacy? If so, you can leave the way you came.” With his back lying flat against his sturdy mattress, Renjun finally feels the weight of today’s events crash over his shoulders. He reaches a hand over and squeezes them, feels the way they ache and pop in misery. On days like this, he would wish for nothing more than a bed. A proper bed, with posts and a mattress so comfortable he could melt into the sheets. It’s been too long since he’s had a real bed. 

Donghyuck rises as soon as Renjun lies down, crossing his leg at the foot of the mattress. “Unfortunately not. I’m not just here to ‘invade your privacy’. I’m here to get something back.” he lifts his hands to motion quotes with his fingers. 

Renjun lifts his head at this and pries one eye open to look at him with an arched eyebrow. He sees a ghost of a smile playing over Donghyuck’s lips. 

“I think you have something that belongs to my friend? Dude with the blue highlights? Looks kinda angry all the time. Chenle, remember him?”

The outline of the laser blade in Renjun’s pocket mocks him silently as it pokes against his thigh. He knew he shouldn’t have stolen it off that Chenle guy, but it just looked so tempting, he was practically shoving it in his face. Renjun managed to shimmy it off his hand and slipped it under his jacket when he bumped into his shoulder. 

It was a hot item and he knows his way around the tech market in Glam. He probably could have found a good enough deal to cover his meals for the next few months, if he was smart with his spending. Renjun wouldn’t have to worry about getting caught shoplifting for a little while. 

Bad choice to steal from someone who goes to a mafia school though, he admits to the flaw in his plan because now, here he is, caught, and _fuck_ he really just wants to take a nap, so fucking bad.

The groan manages to escape past his lips before his head can even properly hit the mattress. Donghyuck laughs at this, light and breezy. 

“Hey, you’re lucky I managed to convince him to let me go instead. Or else you’d probably be going to bed tonight with a missing finger, or even a foot if he’s moody. But, see? I’m nice. I ask.” He rambles on. 

“You’re not that bad at pickpocketing for someone without training though, hate to say, I’m a little impressed. You should’ve seen it though. Chenle was pissed when he realized and you were gone by the time he tried to catch up. It was hilarious, he was red in the face, like actually livid. But, honestly, I think he was angrier over the fact that you managed to sneak it off of him. And-”

Renjun sits up abruptly, feeling his eardrums threatening to shrivel up any moment. “God, do you ever shut up?”

Donghyuck stops, and just when Renjun thinks he’ll get the message, he doesn’t. Instead, he laughs again, deep and hearty. “No, Jaemin says I’m no good at that either.”

All hope in his chest dissipates as soon as it appears. The lines on his forehead become more prominent by the second. 

“And if I don’t give it back?” 

“I can just tell Chenle to come and get it himself, though I can’t guarantee he won’t maim you.”

“You’re a bunch of crazy people…” Renjun shakes his head, fishing the knife out of his pocket. What a shame, he thinks. He’s grown accustomed to the feeling of its weight in his pocket. Goodbye two full months of guaranteed meals. With a sigh, he extends his arm and holds it out to Donghyuck. 

He watches curiously as he hesitates for the first time that night. Renjun can practically see the cogs turning in his head, and he dreads even thinking about it as a thousand-kilowatt grin flashes across Donghyuck’s face. He looks like a lion baring all his teeth. 

“New plan.” He pushes himself up by the soles of his feet and wobbles a little before balancing himself on the metal bars beside the mattress, causing the blanket above them to sway left and right. Renjun quickly darts to his feet and steadies it back in place, shooting the other a deadly glare. He already had to give up his funds for the next few months, he doesn’t need to sleep without a roof too. 

Donghyuck has the decency to look sheepish for a brief moment before going back to his bright smile. “Like I said, new plan. How about I let you hold onto that for the night and you can give it back to Chenle yourself, tomorrow. At the academy. Then, you can see it for yourself… if you made the right choice by turning it down for this…” he trails off as he gestures towards the mattress and roof, but quickly bounces back after being met with another one of Renjun’s glare. “... humble abode. Or not.” he finishes with a cheeky smile. 

“And how do you know I won’t run away with it?”

Donghyuck sucks in a sharp breath and makes his way towards the roof’s door. With every calculated step he takes, Renjun finds himself staring, intently and curiously. 

“Well, Chenle is top in his class for tracking. He’s like a mini bounty hunter, so I doubt you’d get far, especially on foot.” Donghyuck swings the door open and wedges one foot between the frame as he leans against the door. “Also, I think you have a little secret you’re not ready to admit just yet. I think you’re curious, and you may just be regretting your choice to turn down the academy. But I guess we’ll just have to find out tomorrow.”

Renjun scoffs. “Look man, I don’t even know where-”

“I’ll meet you here. Tomorrow, at 6 pm. Sharp.”

He doesn’t get another word in as Donghyuck disappears through the door as silently as he came in. All Renjun is left to look at is the empty foot tracks in the dirt leading up to the exit, and despite all the ruckus he caused, Donghyuck had left no trace of him being there. As if Renjun had been arguing with a ghost for the past 20 minutes. 

He shakes his head. He still really needed some sleep, but now he has Donghyuck’s words swirling in his head like a broken record. 

The mattress thuds and the springs poke into his sore back as he lies down with a huff. _‘...you may just be regretting your choice to turn down the academy.’_ He replays the words over and over again until he can picture the way they write themselves into thin air with his eyes closed. Until he’s able to taste the words on his tongue, the bitter tang of the word ‘regret’ melts into his mouth. Does Renjun regret saying no? Sure, going to a school with a bunch of people like Donghyuck and Chenle sounds like hell, but looking around, is it ny worse than being here? 

The only word that comes to mind as these thoughts spiral around in his head, is survive. Isn’t that what Renjun has been doing for the past 19 years of his life? Surviving? Why should this be any different?

Control is a feeling he’s known far too intimately and Renjun dominates it on any other day, but as he lies in bed that night and looks to the stars for an answer, he doesn’t push away the uncertainty of tomorrow that greets his chest. 

The knife in his pocket is there to keep him grounded, a silent promise for tomorrow’s future. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He spends the first half of the day going back and forth between making a run for it and talking himself into staying. On one hand, Renjun is curious about how this is going to go down. What if this is everything he’s ever needed? As much as he doesn’t want to acknowledge that empty gap in his life, he’s promised to at least never lie to himself. 

Renjun is 19 and he doesn’t have any plans for himself other than surviving. Over time, he’s learned that thinking about the future is a privilege he does not have the luxury for. He’s only able to get by day by day, and for the longest time, he’s been okay with that. But all this talk of school and another chance at life has him thinking beyond what he’s able to see with his own two eyes. 

What if this is his second chance? In a city like Glam, something as fragile as second chances are a rarity. 

He bounces these thoughts around his head all day as he peers over the city, walking through the alleyways of the little neighbourhood he lives in. The city looks a lot more different in the afternoon sun than it does when the midnight sky blankets over it. 

By the time he makes it back to his place, the warm sun is already setting over the horizon and Donghyuck is there waiting for him, patiently on the ledge. Renjun almost doesn’t recognize him at first. He's traded his flashy jacket and tight pants, for a uniform this time—a white dress shirt and tie, tucked under a dark blazer lined with ruby red around the edges and a pair of black slacks. Classic. He’s dressed like an average student from the past, nothing like the ones in Glam City with their tacky jumpsuits. 

“Wow, you stayed. Here I thought you made a run for it.” Humour coats Donghyuck’s voice, but Renjun can sense the relief in it too.

“Can’t make a run for it if your buddy is just going to hunt me down anyway.”

“Touché.” He pushes himself off the ledge and gives Renjun a once over. 

“So, shall we go?”

  
  
  
  


The academy is a lot further away than Renjun would’ve expected. It’s situated quite literally in the heart of the city. With it being a whole criminal academy and all, you would’ve expected it to be someplace a little secluded and not so dense. When he asks Donghyuck about it, he answers it simply as it is. 

“Well, that’s why they’ll never suspect it, right?” 

It sounds like an overused line from a movie and yet, it makes all the sense in the world. 

They end up getting off the train and walking the rest of the way there.

“Okay, here we are.” Donghyuck motions his head towards the door.

Renjun stares at him in disbelief, then at the door, then back to him and waits for the punchline to the joke until he gets tired of waiting. “That’s… That’s a noodle shop.” He points out. 

It sounds absurd even coming from his mouth. 

“I know,” Donghyuck says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world and shakes his head. “Just- Just trust me? Come on.” 

He doesn’t wait for Renjun’s response as he walks right in. Sceptical, Renjun tails behind him anyway. 

It is a noodle shop, he notes. The kind he faintly remembers going to as a kid if the fosters were in a good mood. It smells like hot soup and memories in here, and the growling in his stomach reminds him that he hasn’t had a real meal in weeks now. 

Donghyuck walks him to the back of the shop, through the kitchen and Renjun is pleasantly surprised that they aren’t being stopped for trespassing by all the staff walking around. 

The back door swings open with a rusty creak as they start descending the staircase and into the narrow alleyway. There’s a little shed there, in the corner with painted, brick walls and a dome-like roof. It looks like it’s been here for decades. 

Donghyuck knocks three times on the door and waits. Renjun can only observe closely as it creaks open by a sliver, a rusty voice coming from the other side. He doesn’t hear much except a few mutters between Donghyuck and the man behind the door before it swings fully open. 

It takes him a few moments to realize that the ‘small’ shed isn’t all that small. Once he steps in, he can see a clear path of the hallway it leads to, bright with lights hung from the ceiling. The ceiling gets higher the further they descend the grand, spiral staircase at the end of the hallway. Renjun has seen a lot of things, but he’s never seen anything quite like this before. It doesn’t even look like they’re in Glam anymore. The city above that he was standing in minutes ago is all bright lights and high technology, but down here, they’re surrounded by rustic decor that hangs on walls and floorboards that creak from nimble steps. The walls are a classic eggshell white with wooden panels lined over them. 

It feels like they had just somehow gone back in time. He can hear distant chatter and laughter in the walls, the low rumble of people in what he assumes is the common room. 

Donghyuck seems to catch his questioning stare and answers him. “Class just finished and today’s the last day before our break for New Years.” He points two fingers to the dining hall. “Dinner is in an hour, and most of everyone is either in there or lounging around in their rooms.” 

A couple of students pass by them on their way, clad in almost the same uniform as Donghyuck, not bothering to hide the fact that they’re blatantly staring at Renjun. And if he didn't feel so outnumbered, he would have no trouble shooting them back a look. So much for a warm welcome, he thinks.

But he does notice how, although every student he’s passed had been dressed in their uniform, no two students seem to have identical ones. There’s always something unique about the pattern of reds sewn into their uniforms. Donghyuck has his lining the lapels of his blazer, other students have patches of them sewn into their coats and blazers, some with shapes or crests. It’s like they were tailored according to each student. 

Renjun can’t help but feel like he’s standing out in his black bomber jacket and skin-tight jeans.

“Come on, I’ll show you around before you give Chenle his thing back. He’s probably hitting the showers right about now. You can catch him later.” 

They go through the basic stuff; common room, cafeteria, classrooms, teacher’s lounge. It mostly just looks like a normal academy. Maybe with a lot less tech, but then again Renjun never stuck around schools for that long, so what does he know. Donghyuck laughs when he tells him this. 

“Yeah, it’s not that different. We just have different curriculums compared to the normal academies. They have microbiology and we have… poison lab.” 

He starts naming every single one of their classes after that and that’s when it starts to hit Renjun in the face. He’s standing in a building filled with assassins in training. And yet somehow, it’s the most normal he’s felt in a while. He can practically feel their anger radiating off the walls, the same anger he’s known too intimately. 

“Quick question,” he asks when they exit the gym. “Why does the place look like this? If you’re such an elite school, I expected it to be a little more advanced.” 

Donghyuck gives the decor a once-over and starts walking again. “We are advanced. We use the latest tech in classes and during training. But just like every other school, we have our principles. Percival says we’re nothing without it. This building has been around since the time Glam City had rebranded itself. He says that leaving its authenticity reminds us why we should be doing this in the first place. To bring justice to Glam.” 

He sighs, exasperated, “Sadly, that’s not always the case for everyone.” 

“You guys are trained criminals. How are you bringing justice?” Renjun says, eyebrows raised. He doesn’t expect the thin line that forms on Donghyuck’s lips. 

“We don’t just steal from and kill random people. It’s only if we need to. You always need a reason to do it. A real one. Or else you’re no different from the rest of them.”

“Is that what you guys say to make yourself feel better?”

He receives an eye roll. “Hasn’t the system ever failed you, Renjun?”

When Renjun doesn’t answer, he scoffs. “Exactly.”

“But you are right. Not everyone comes out with a hero complex. Some… add onto the corruption. It’s always a gamble at King’s.”

Renjun nods like he’s listening, and he is, but only partially. It’s a lot to take in in such little time. 

“And Mr Percival… is that his real name?”

“No.” He’s led through another series of steps and into a narrow hallway. 

There are pictures on the walls this time, lined along the hallway and a particular boy catches Renjun’s eye. He had bright, silver hair styled in a mohawk and a metallic arm, gripping a crossbow as the other shook hands with who Renjun can only assume was the current headmaster at the time. Even then, he could recognize this boy from a mile away, a young Mr Percival. 

“Think of it as more of a rank. When the current Mr Percival retires, he’ll be replaced with a brand new, just as qualified Percival.”

He’s about to prod even further about the system, but a broad shoulder bumps into his, causing Renjun to almost fall at his feet if it wasn’t for the tight space and lean walls. He expects at least a half-decent apology from the guy when he turns around, but instead, is met with the sight of his broad back facing him like it had been nothing. 

Renjun has had just about enough of these pricks and something deep inside him boils before he’s even managed to rethink his choice of words. 

“Look where you’re fucking going, jackass.” He raises his voice and listens to the way it eerily echoes in the high ceilings. 

At least it catches said jackass’ attention as he stops dead in his tracks. Renjun is eager to be faced by him. He wants to be met eye to eye with whoever this prick thinks he is. Sure, he looks a few inches taller than him, but Renjun has taken a few twice his size before, especially when he has enough vigour and anger in him as he does now.

“What did you call me?” The boy turns.

Renjun is met with two different shades of eyes. The right is a piercing, pale grey, whereas the left is mundane brown—very much like his own. The contrasting eye colours match the boy’s sharp features, although Renjun isn’t sure he can call him much of a boy at all. He looks around the same age as him and Donghyuck with his high cheekbones, jet black hair and bobbing Adam's Apple. If Renjun himself wasn’t so consumed with annoyance, he’d call him pretty. 

Donghyuck seems to enjoy watching all of this unfold before him, casually leaning against the wall behind him with his arms crossed. 

He only interjects when the other boy walks closer, a vein visibly straining against his smooth forehead. 

“Let it go, Jaemin.” He chuckles lightly. 

Jaemin, Renjun notes, does not let it go. 

“Who the fuck even is this?” He looks straight to Donghyuck, ignoring Renjun’s presence completely.

“Recruit. I’m showing him around.” 

Renjun chimes in, rather quickly though he doesn’t know why he feels the need to explain himself. “Possible recruit.” He presses on the word _possible._

He holds the brief glare Jaemin sends his way.

“Is Mr Percival okay with you showing some kid around?”

 _Kid?_ Renjun thinks. At least _he_ had the decency to acknowledge Jaemin was around their age. The other doesn’t seem to show the same amount of gratitude.

Beside him, Donghyuck scoffs. “What’s the worst he can do? Throw me out?”

Jaemin sends him a warning look, which he brushes off without a second thought. 

“Fine, whatever,” Jaemin says as his eyes briefly shift to Renjun before going back to him. “Just tell him to have some fucking manners.” 

“Dude, you’re the one who bumped into me.” Renjun spits back, words laced with venom. He admits this isn’t the best first impression.

They settle with a mini stare down, neither one willing to back down. 

Donghyuck seems to drink up all the entertainment quite fast as he dusts the back of his blazer and pushes himself off the wall. “As entertaining as it is to be the sole audience of this very awkward staring contest, I want to get to dinner. So, let me show you where Chenle’s dorm room is and we can go to meet Mr Percival.” 

He nods down the hallway. Renjun groans inwardly although he’s only half-listening, still stubborn to break his gaze from Jackass Jaemin. They’ve been walking around so much, he’s almost forgotten why he was here in the first place: to meet Chenle. 

Renjun isn’t all that excited to see Mr Percival again either. Something about the way he speaks and carries himself makes Renjun feel like a kid in his presence. And he hasn’t felt like a kid in a long time, not after he’s learned to fend for himself in Glam. 

Surprisingly, it’s Jaemin that walks away first, rolling his eyes and muttering, _“I don’t have fucking time for this.”_

He makes it a point to bump into Renjun’s shoulder as he leaves. 

“Well, that’s Jaemin.” 

“Yeah, I think I figured that out.” Renjun rolls his eyes. “He seems nice. Real warm.”

His tone is dripping with sarcasm that it even makes Donghyuck laugh out loud. “Yeah, he’s a little princess when he wants to be.”

“Is everyone here like that?”

He expects Donghyuck to say no, but he should’ve known better than to expect Donghyuck of all people to sugarcoat things. 

“Yes.” He says, flat out and simple. “Well, the asshole-ish part. There are just different variations of it. You’ll see. Now, come on, hurry up.”

The dormitory building is a little less spacious than the others with its narrow hallways and rooms packed closely together, but it does the job and looks more comfortable than anything Renjun has had in years, so who’s he to judge? 

As they passed by a few of the rooms, he couldn't help but get curious, peeking through some of the doors left ajar. Students were lazing about on their bed, others sprawled on the floor with books in their hands and some strumming guitars while they chat. They look like average students from way back when Glam wasn’t even called Glam City. It’s eerie to think each one of them has the skill and potential to kill just about anyone. 

Renjun almost bumps head-first into Donghyuck’s back as he stops abruptly right in front of him. There’s a door on the right decorated in skull stickers and caution tape lining the frame. _Cosy_ , Renjun sneers to himself.

“This is him.”

He eyes Donghyuck suspiciously before knocking when he’s urged to. Three knocks and no one comes running to the door. It’s futile, he thinks. That is before the other lets out an exasperated sigh and barges in anyway, tired of waiting. 

Chenle is there, lounging on his bed with his headphones in, back against them as he flips through the notes on his pad. He’s not dressed in the uniform like Donghyuck is, instead he’s wearing clothes almost identical to the ones Renjun saw him in yesterday when they met. 

He still doesn’t seem to notice that they’ve barged into his room until Donghyuck walks straight to him, looping a finger on the earpiece cord and yanking one out of his ear. Chenle reacts almost instantly and violently, holding a knife out to Donghyuck’s throat that Renjun hadn’t even seen him reach for. 

“Calm down, tiger. It’s me.” Donghyuck says, tone filled with amusement as if there wasn’t a blade held against his jugular. 

Relief seems to flood Chenle’s face as his muscles relax, the blade going limp in his hand. “What did I tell you about sneaking up on me?”

He reaches under his bed and secures the knife back in its little satchel. 

“For your information, we knocked.” Donghyuck sits down on the chair near the desk with a pout. “Three times!”

Renjun suddenly feels out of place and awkward, like he’s wearing pants twice his size and nothing fits. He looks around the room and takes in the decor to distract himself—poster-filled walls and articles of the city’s most well-known bandits. 

Chenle is so very predictable, he thinks.

“We?” Chenle finally says and turns his head in Renjun’s direction. 

“Ah, is he here to steal more of my shit, or finally give it back?” 

The humour is obvious in his voice but Renjun can’t help but get offended by the way he’s speaking to Donghyuck instead, as if Renjun couldn’t speak for himself. He doesn’t wait for the other to respond for him. 

“I’m here to give it back.” He pulls the knife out of his jacket, extending it out for Chenle to reach. “And I’m sorry for stealing it in the first place.” 

Chenle finally hauls himself off his bed, notes long forgotten as he reaches for the knife. He turns it up and around, checking for any dents or faults on the surface and when he’s satisfied he doesn’t find any, he gives him a big smile before kicking Renjun’s inner thigh with his knee—barely grazing his crotch. 

Renjun could’ve sworn then and there, he’s never tasted fear quite this strong in his mouth before. He groans, feeling his right thigh burning.

“Okay,” he manages to rasp out. “I probably deserved that one.” 

“Yeah, you do. Next time, don’t pick my pockets or else I’m aiming higher than your thighs.” 

Donghyuck seems to enjoy watching this from his seat, silently giggling to himself. 

“Duly noted.” Renjun croaks out as his hand blindly moves behind him to lean on the wall, balancing his weight.

  
  
  


They end up walking to Mr Percival’s office anyway, despite Renjun detesting the very thought the whole way there. But he learns that a hungry Donghyuck is a cranky Donghyuck so he keeps his mouth shut until they make it up to the 3rd floor. 

“I’m not bringing you to him because you’re in trouble. I brought you here and if anyone is getting in trouble, it’ll be me.” Donghyuck explains as he makes it to the top of the stairs. 

“I’m bringing you to him because, maybe, possibly, you might’ve changed your mind about the offer. Look, I know it’s a lot to take in. And King’s Dominion isn’t perfect... it’s far from it. But it’... something, and right now you don’t have anything.” He leans against the wall with his hands crossed, refusing to look Renjun in the eye. 

“And maybe, possibly, I’ve grown to like you. And it would kinda suck if I found out you died in the streets from pneumonia or something with that sad excuse of a blanket you own.”

Renjun laughs, genuinely this time. He thinks he'll never get tired of watching Donghyuck's face turn sheepish. "I'll keep that in mind when I see him."

"Down the hall, first door to the left. Now go, I'm fucking starving."

Just as Donghyuck pushes himself off the wall, Renjun feels the sudden urge to call out to him once more. He watches, amusedly, as he almost slips on the steps before looking back with a questioning gaze.

"Thank you." The words feel foreign on his tongue as soon as he says it. Renjun doesn't remember the last time he's genuinely meant it.

Donghyuck seems to catch onto that as his face breaks out in a grin, teasing but just as sincere. "You can thank me when you come out of that room as a student at King’s." He leaves with a wink and a cheeky smile.

Renjun makes it down the hall and spots the first door to the left. The words _Percival_ carved on a plaque at the front. He takes a second to himself to recollect his thoughts. He thinks of all the things that have happened today. All the things he's learned on the way here and how hectic the past two days had been for him. Renjun has never talked to this many people in what feels like years. He usually stays low and makes himself as invisible as possible. It's the only way he's known how to survive all these years.

He knocks on the door three times for good luck and pushes past it before he can convince himself to back out.

Mr Percival is there behind his mahogany desk, sitting comfortably in his leather chair with his reading glasses perched upon the bridge of his nose. There's incense burning somewhere around that makes Renjun's nostrils burn with its scent. _Mint,_ he notes. Gross.

Mr Percival only gives him a glance before going back to the pad in his hands, flipping through his documents. The light illuminates off his face and casts shadows on his most prominent features. He still looks like that kid from the pictures Renjun saw in the hall.

"Ah, Renjun. How nice to see you. Please, take a seat."

"You don't seem surprised that I'm here."

Percival sets the pad down to his right and gives Renjun his full attention. "What kind of headmaster would I be if I didn't know what was going on in my school?"

"A bad one, I'm guessing."

Mr Percival laughs. "Well, you're not wrong. Lee Jeno informed me about it earlier when he saw you and Donghyuck walking around school grounds. If I hadn't taken such a liking to you, I would've had you thrown out. Fortunately, I'm used to Donghyuck's antics."

Renjun clears his throat. "Yeah, it's, um, not his fault. I took something from one of the students and I was just here to give it back. I was going to leave."

He feels exposed by the way Percival looks straight through him as if Renjun was made out of glass. He hates being studied and he hates nothing more than being broken down like a specimen.

"And yet, you're here."

"So I am."

He watches him lean back against his leather chair. "I doubt it’s to say hello. Any reason why?"

Renjun had settled with his bottom lip caught between his teeth, gnawing on it raw. He’s never entertained the thought of wanting more, except now.

"I was hoping you'd tell me. You seem to know all the answers."

“I don’t know _all_ the answers, Renjun. I’m just one man.” Mr Percival chuckles. “But you do remind me a lot of myself when I was your age.”

An image of young Mr Percival greets his thoughts, mohawk and all. 

“You’re tenacious and work well on instincts. You’re wary of everyone around you and don’t trust easily. That’s good. Important in a city like this.” The man leans closer. “The choices you make in this world are yours entirely, so listen to your gut, Renjun. What is it telling you?”

Renjun’s brain is telling him to get up, leave and never look back. It’s telling him that he doesn’t need this, he doesn’t need to depend on people—that people have only let him down so far. But his gut, that damned thing, is telling him to stay. The primal ache he feels at the core of his stomach is keeping him rooted in this chair, begging for him to give this place a chance. He thinks of all the things he’s seen today. The students laughing in their dorm, Donghyuck’s words that swirl in his head and all the kids his age with the same amount of anger in them as Renjun. 

Renjun has never felt like he belonged anywhere in this city, except now.

“To stay. It’s telling me to stay.”

Percival smiles, more genuinely than he has ever seen him be. “The new semester starts in a week, after New Years.”

He holds his hand out for Renjun to shake, which he does, willingly. “Welcome to King’s Dominion, Renjun.”  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/813na)   
>  [twt](https://mobile.twitter.com/introblues)


	2. little rat

Renjun didn't expect the first lesson he would learn at the academy was that he had severely underestimated it. He doesn't have room to blame himself for much because if he's being honest, he hasn't stepped into a real school in almost a decade. But this. This was no real school anyway. It shouldn't have come as a surprise to him when he learned that Donghyuck had successfully managed to leave out some (key, might he add) points during their little tour.

Like how Mr Percival is his father.

He doesn't seem to think it changes anything and would've been pointless to mention, but Renjun would've appreciated a little heads-up regardless. He would've liked knowing he was talking to the school's most influential student. The only reason he found out was because Donghyuck had been a little more talkative than usual and let it slip.

Reputations were another thing he hadn't known about. It plays a fairly big part if Lee Jeno's explanation was anything to go by.

Everyone in this school has cliques, those who don't are either rats (the outcasts) or too good for a pack (Renjun eyes Na Jaemin across the dining hall, sitting idly by himself.) Being a rat is as dangerous as standing in a pit of snakes without as much as a single piece of clothing to cover you up. You're weak and worst of all, packed fresh meat for everyone to devour you like hungry vultures, leaving nothing but your bones and a trail of feathers.

And Renjun was exactly what they wanted. Fresh meat ready to be hunted like prey. No reputation, no family, no name, no mourners.

Donghyuck had cut in before Jeno had a chance to go on.

"Oh, please. Don't be so dramatic."

Jeno scoffed, "I'm being dramatic? Have you met you?"

Renjun tuned the rest of their banter out.

He could still make a run for it, his brain tries to reason. Even when he's standing before the noodle shop entrance with his backpack slung over his shoulder, nothing in it but a shirt and pair of pants. He could still get out of this like the thousands of other times he's bailed out on something good.

But even after all the reason his brain has given him, his gut is still solid for him to stay.

So he lets the tremor run through his body and shakes his core before he's even able to push past the doors and through the back kitchen. Three knocks on the shed door in the alley and one grunt before he's allowed to enter through the long hallways, making his way through this labyrinth of a campus.

He's the first one here, he acknowledges. It's only the day after New Years and students should be rolling into the academy in an hour from now. He manages a glance at the big grandfather clock at the top of the staircase as he descends. Half-past seven in the morning and the crispy air had still managed to seep into the thick walls underground. This flashy jacket isn't doing much for him in battling the frost numbing his fingers.

Mr Percival had specifically requested him to come earlier than everyone else to settle in before classes start at 9. Renjun gets lost in his thoughts a little more before he finally finds his office.

"Come in, Renjun." Mr Percival's gravely voice calls out to him once he knocks.

"How did you know it was me?"

"You're the only one who would be coming by at this time." He rises from his chair, letting his coat fall over his back. There is no doubt he looks like a headmaster now with his long, black coat and a red crest embroidered onto his pocket. Renjun had seen that symbol around the school. A crow with a sword between its beak. He's seen it carved in metal in the dining hall, one painted on the top of the staircase at the entrance and even a small symbol by the noodle shop sign.

But the one on his coat is a little different. He has an emblem of a little sun underneath it.

"Come with me." Percival gestures to the door, a gloved hand pointed at the hallway.

"I assume I don't need to give you a proper tour."

They pass by the same maze of hallways he did on the first day, reaching the dormitory block all the way at the end.

"No, Donghyuck was... informative."

"He's also quite a handful. If he gets too rowdy, bring it to me."

It feels so odd to hear silence linger in these hallways. No hurried footsteps, no loud chatter, not even a breath out of place. The last time he was here, it was bustling with students all over the academy. Renjun can't help but think how ghostly it looks with its eggwhite walls and wooden panels—like something straight out of a horror film.

"Right, here we are." Mr Percival stops to fish out a key from his silk-lined pockets. It's those old types that require a mechanical system with the door, not the swipe and release Renjun has gotten so used to manipulating. He'll have to learn the system piece by piece before he could even dream to break out of it. As much as he trusts his gut, there's nothing wrong with being too cautious. Knowing your way in and out has always been the first thing his brain recognizes. It's a habit, more like muscle memory at this point. He's built on worst-case scenarios.

"This won't be your permanent room, we just needed more time to assign you a roommate, but this will have to do for now. All recruits get this room for a week or two before they're transferred."

He takes a peek inside the room. A fan, a closet, barely working lights, paint chipping off the walls and a rusty bedpost with an old mattress. Renjun almost moans in delight looking at it. His own four walls. It's been too long since he's able to say he's had one.

"No, this is... this is good for now." He mumbles, afraid his voice would betray him. He doesn't take his eyes off the mattress. There are bedsheets on it. Real bed sheets that weren't stolen off the street or the city's nearest landfill. It smells like it's been washed and dry cleaned. The scent permeates the air and almost makes his eyes water. He hasn't smelled something that good in years. They didn't even give him bedsheets in foster care, just a sleazy couch and a throw pillow, but it was the best night of sleep he ever had.

It felt almost sinful to put his hands on them, but he's waited too long for this. He drops his bag onto the floor and buries his hands in the sheets. They feel soft under his calloused fingers.

"Thank you." He whispers.

He gets a warm smile from Percival who only walks over to the small closet, creaking it open and pulling out a uniform. It's black, just like the rest of the student body's but it has red colouring the lapels of the coat and lines stitched all over. A strap is sewn onto each sleeve. It looks custom made.

"Yours."

Renjun blinks. He's never had anything like this to himself before. He's never had anything made just to fit him. "This... is mine?"

"Yes, Renjun. This is yours to wear. Not to keep." Percival clears his throat.

"Settle in. Bathrooms are down the hall and the class starts at 9. There will be an assembly at 8:30 which should be when students will be rolling in. Your schedule is on the desk."

Renjun is still too busy feeling up the soft sheets under his skin, but he nods and hopes his brain burns an image of those words in his mind for later. It should be concerning how comfortable he is to be this vulnerable in front of someone else, an adult he just met no less. But something about Mr Percival's satisfied smile has him unafraid.

"Renjun?" The voice calls out to him. He lifts his head to meet Percival's kind eyes peeping through the door.

"I think you'll fit in nicely."

And he says it so confidently, Renjun had half the mind to believe him.

  
  
  
  


When water hits his skin, he thinks this is the closest he’ll ever get to heaven. 

Muck and grime wash off his body and flows as blackened water between his feet, all the oil that has soaked into his hair at this point. Showers were another luxury he couldn’t afford. When he’s done scrubbing every bit of dirt off his nails, he heads back to the room. 

Renjun scurries on his feet, tucking in his white dress shirt into his pants and pulling out the shiny pair of black shoes from under the bed, polished to perfection that he almost feels bad for putting them on.

It’s almost half past 8 now and he can hear the clacking of shoes against the hollow floorboards outside, the sound of students descending the staircase. Their chatters are loud enough to leave a tremble in the walls. He can hear them filing in the dining hall, one by one, the sound of soles hitting against marble tiles.

There isn't a mirror in his room, but he can tell by the way his hair falls over his eyes that it looks messy but he has to remind himself not to care. This is a school full of vultures and yearning for their approval would be exactly what they wanted.

He still attempts pushing his hair to the side though. He doesn't touch it when it falls back in place.

"God," He whispers and hates the way it sounds vulnerable on his lips. He can't let his guard down now of all times. He says a quick prayer to any God willing to listen to him and walks out.

On the outside, Renjun looks like he fits right into the sea of red and black. They all look more or less the same and he feels the anger that they have. The same anger he's built on. But he knows all too well to not notice the pointed stares he's getting as he walks into the dining hall, the whispers he hears after each passing.

Fortunately, and Renjun never thought he'd say this, he's thankful that Donghyuck spots him first from the other end of the hall, waving him over to a table he's sitting at.

"Where's Jeno?" Renjun asks, crossing over to sit opposite of him. He notes that Donghyuck is sitting alone.

"Probably with his clique." Donghyuck answers.

"I thought you were his clique."

He laughs. "We only hang out because we're partners in combat practice. Dining hall assemblies are for you to sit along with your kind. Didn't you pay attention to anything he said last week?"

"You said it was bullshit." Renjun deadpans.

"I didn't say it was bullshit. I said he was being dramatic."

Renjun scans his eyes around the hall. He sees Jeno a few tables away, laughing with a group of burly guys with toned chests. His soft eye-smiles stands out between them like a butterfly in a flock of moths.

His eyes travel a little further away and find Chenle sitting at the end of the hall with that doe-eyed boy from the other day, Jisung, if Renjun remembers correctly.

He looks back at Donghyuck, mindlessly scrolling through his phone.

"What about you then? What's your clique?"

"Don't have one." Donghyuck answers like it were clear as day. "I'm a one-man-band."

He looks around again. 

"Like Mr Nice Guy over there?" Renjun cocks his head at Jaemin's table.

"Please, Jaemin isn't a one-man-band. His group is just under a little detention time. It's a long story, but they put a student in a coma, so they're under house arrest for now."

"Isn't this a school for assassins? Isn't that encouraged?"

Donghyuck looks at him like he's crazy. "You can't kill other students. That's a rule."

Mr Percival finally makes an entrance, walking his way over to the stage. Students stand, row by row as he walks past them.

"But they didn't kill the student."

"Hence, the house arrest," Donghyuck explains.

Renjun manages to steal a glance at Jaemin and feels jolts travel up his spine when he realizes he had already been staring at him.

"Then how come he isn't in trouble?"

He looks away when Percival walks past them but not before sending Jaemin one last dirty look.

"Leader privileges. They all covered for him."

Mr Percival starts with his welcoming speech into the new year, lots of talk about higher expectations, things Renjun is sure the students here have heard close to a million times if their faces were any indication. He stops listening after a while too.

"And what about me?" He says under his breath. Just loud enough for Donghyuck to hear.

He gets a mere side glance. "What about you?"

"What clique am I in?"

Even over Mr Percival's speech, he can hear Donghyuck's little snickers. He kicks his shin under the table.

"You're a rat, Renjun. The worst kind. You’re supposed to sit at the end of the hall where the students keep their heads down and try to get by."

Renjun scoffs at this and he doesn't care if the next table hears. He gives Donghyuck a challenging look. "Then why am I sitting here with you?"

All the bright lights in Glam City and the hottest summer sun could not compare to the way Donghyuck's eyes shine when he looks at him, slightly off-kilter.

"Because I don't think you're here just to get by. I think you're here to leave a mark."

  
  
  
  
  


The speech went on for a lot longer than Renjun had ever expected and by the time they were dismissed, he could’ve sworn he had lost half the sleep he gained last night. Even Donghyuck bumping into his shoulder caught him off-guard. 

“What’s your first class?”

“Poison lab.” He says by memory. He had to spend 30 minutes in that hall doing nothing but listen to Donghyuck try to talk over Percival’s speech booming through the sound system. Memorising his schedule by heart was the only thing keeping him awake.

Donghyuck beams from beside him. “Great, that’s what I have right now.” 

He makes Renjun recite the rest by heart and he does so, successfully, only to be met with another one of Donghyuck’s thousand-kilowatt smiles. “You have two classes with me. Poison lab and sword combat practice. I’ll help you out today and guide you to your classes, but tomorrow, you're on your own."

The thought of having poison labs and combat classes sounded ridiculous to him, but Renjun supposes he should start making more room for ridiculousness in his life now. The hallways are busier than ever now with students pushing past each other to get to their lockers, not giving as much as a single glance as they bumped into him. He can tell why the wooden floors are so creaky now, what with all the rushing.

He's being treated almost as if he was a ghost (or a rat, Jeno would say) and Renjun knows how it feels like to be a ghost. He has spent the better part of his life trying to be one, to be invincible enough that no one picks you off the street and uses you as their own puppet. But for the first time in his life, being treated like you don't exist has never felt so demeaning.

Luckily enough, Donghyuck starts talking enough for the both of them and all Renjun had to do was listen idly as he chattered on about the classes, only paying attention when he asked to.

"What about those reputations you guys talked about earlier? What kind of reputations do some of these people have?" He asks suddenly, making Donghyuck slow down on his chatter.

"Too many." He answers. "The only ones that really matter are the things you've done and what your ties are."

Renjun hums, his attention now solely on him.

"Like Jeno. His brother was in prison for a long time and some say for a crime he hadn't even committed. So that's why he's here, learning to get the system back on track. Big dreams, that guy. The people he hangs with have the same stories. That's how cliques work around here. They recognize your anger, or privilege, and take you in."

He knows Donghyuck could already taste the question on his lips before he could even ask.

"Jaemin recognizes privilege more than anger, though I'd say he has a great mix of both."

He speaks so openly of him that Renjun can't help but notice his tone. Donghyuck doesn't speak in fear of Jaemin, not like everyone else. He doesn't cower under his stare or cave in when he's addressed.

"You two close?"

He doesn't miss the ghost of a fond smile on his lips.

"I've known him ever since I learned to pick up a knife. We grew up together, forced childhood best friends if you will. Even though he'll stop at nothing to deny it."

Now there's another thing Renjun learned today. Today was just full of surprises hurdled at him in every direction. He would've never expected Donghyuck of all people to have such a strong bond with someone like Jaemin.

"You don't look like the kind of person he'd have around."

Donghyuck's chortle almost echoes throughout the hallway if it weren't for Renjun's hand slapped over his mouth. "Look at me. Do I look like the kind of person _anyone_ would have around?"

At least he's self-aware, Renjun thinks. That's a first.

"Jaemin comes from a long line of powerful people in Glam. Assassins and hitmen. His family's history is rooted in this city, it's in their blood, hence the privilege. His father and my dad have known each other for a long time too. Jaemin came into this school with a good foundation to build his skills on and he's only gotten better since then. His clique is no different. Powerful families. Tycoons and all that shit."

"So like... old money," Renjun says, slowly.

"Exactly."

“What about you then?” He doesn’t know what kind of answer he expected Donghyuck to give him but he should’ve known a straight one would be near impossible.

Donghyuck turns to him, all teasing smiles as he holds the door open. “You find out yourself. Gossip is a great way to start friends around here.”

Renjun peeps his head through the door and sees the earlier ruckus come to a halt, 18 different pairs of eyes staring him down like he’s fresh meat. Vultures, he thinks. 

“Welcome to your first period.”

  
  
  
  


If he was being honest, the first class wasn't all that bad. Sure, he could hear whispers about him here and there but the most challenging thing he had to do in class was sit still and listen. He’ll have to get used to that too, he notes. He was never one to sit back and observe, especially not to someone who was lecturing about different types of deadly poisons. 

Living in Glam City means fast decisions, adapting easily and living the fast life. Renjun cannot remember the last time he had to sit down and just listen. 

The rest of the day got gradually harder, and as much as Renjun hates to admit it, it was mostly because Donghyuck hadn’t been in any of his other classes. No one to talk his ear off loud enough to distract him from the stares and whispers. 

So when 6th period came around and it was finally time for combat practice, he was ashamed to say he felt a wave of relief remembering it was his only one other class he shared with Donghyuck. 

He makes a quick stop back at his dorm room, pulling a set of gym clothes from the rack in the closet, all skintight black and grey and slips into it (a painfully slow process—putting it on and moving around in it felt like velcro sewn onto his skin.) 

Renjun keeps pulling at the material when it bunches up around his crotch, creating an unflattering bump. He could’ve sworn he heard a laugh as he passed by the lockers. He keeps his head down after that, cheeks beet red and flushed. 

He managed to navigate his way to the combat hall solely based on memory and the vague directions Donghyuck babbled and burned into his mind. He tails a group of students into the hall, past the big, red doors and stutters in his steps.

It was a lot bigger than he remembered. Or he felt a lot smaller than he did before because this had to be his biggest class yet. There were around 30 people here and these are only the ones that were already here. At least in this class, no one seems to care enough to give him anything more than a glance before going back to their conversations, some in the midst of dueling each other out on the side. Renjun looks around and takes in the high ceilings, thankful for the way they make the uneasiness in his chest a lot bearable. 

It takes him a little bit of time to find that familiar tuff of reddish-brown hair in the crowd, animatedly talking to someone in the corner. It’s only when Donghyuck shifts a little to the left is Renjun finally allowed to catch a glimpse of the person he was talking to. Jet black hair, a pristine sword hanging in his hand and a grey eye amusedly giving Donghyuck all of his attention.

Renjun should’ve known he would be unlucky enough to share at least one class with Jaemin. It was almost too good to be true when he hadn’t shown up in any of his other classes. It’s not that he hates him per se, but he wouldn’t say he was crazy about him either. There’s an aura to him he can’t quite explain. Renjun has lived most of his years in the streets, he knows bad news when he sees it.

But it’s a big class anyway, he’ll make sure to make it a point to avoid him like the plague. 

Donghyuck doesn’t seem to catch his hostility as he waves him over, practically beaming when Jaemin scowls and turns his attention to the sword in his hand. Renjun silently grunts but drags his feet anyway. He tries not to limp his way there when he feels the uncomfortable squeeze around his thigh from the suit. 

“You look cosy.” Donghyuck comments. 

“Fuck off.” Renjun reaches down, tugging at it again. “Why does it even fit like this? How am I supposed to do combat with this?”

Jaemin doesn’t budge from his place next to Donghyuck, but he finally takes his eyes off his weapon. Renjun suppresses the chill running down his spine at that cold, grey eye.

“Maybe your dick is just small.” He says, nonchalantly. 

It's a blessing there wasn't anyone listening in on their conversation. They would catch the tip of Renjun’s ears turning beet red. Almost immediately, Donghyuck lets out the biggest laugh he has ever heard him give, hearing how it echoes in the hall and the way they get pointed stares afterwards. 

“Then stop staring at it.” He bites back. 

That seems to shut Jaemin up for a little while. 

As much as Donghyuck seems to enjoy the air of hostility between them (way more than he should, in Renjun’s opinion), he seems more excited about making Renjun choose his own sword. He manages to get a glance at Donghyuck’s as they make their way to the armory. 

It looks just like everyone else’s, but it has an emblem of the sun carved on the pommel. It's the same one he saw embroidered on Percival’s coat. Renjun didn’t get a chance to get a good look at Jaemin’s sword, but he did catch a glimpse of the hilt. A dark green grip with a snake’s head on the edge of the rain-guard. It was beautiful. 

He gapes as Donghyuck leads them into the armory, the only room he hadn’t included in their little tour a few weeks ago, but Renjun doesn’t blame him. It was lined to the brim with every weapon that comes to mind, from medieval swords to the laser type he had stolen off Chenle a few days ago. 

Firearms lined the walls, all different sizes, heavy to light, all high tech and none of which Renjun knows he could ever afford. The kinds he’d have to work years for just to afford a quarter of the price. They had them all.

“Over here.”

Donghyuck calls out to him. He cocks his head at the big cabinet encasing the typical swords. They look just about as plain as Renjun himself. 

“How come you and Jaemin get special ones?”

He asks, sliding the glass door open and picking out a sword with a blue grip and round pommel. Donghyuck lifts his and swipes a thumb over his red one, then circles it over the emblem.

“They belonged to our family. It was given to us.”

Sourness spreads in his mouth like a disease. 

It shouldn’t feel this foul, especially knowing Donghyuck didn’t mean anything with that. But looking at his plain sword and then at Donghyuck’s used and scratched one, the singular dents that belonged to years of stories and inheritance, he can’t help but think how nice it was to know you belonged somewhere. 

“We should get back.” He mumbles.

  
  
  
  


Surprisingly, he doesn’t do so bad for someone who’s never held a sword in his life. Donghyuck showed him the basics, how and where to grip when he’s wielding and made sure he knew the most important points to strike when it comes to dueling. He messes up the first couple of times and scowls when Jaemin makes it a point to show the smugness in his face whenever he does. 

When Jeno finally gets there, he chips in every now and then with some pointers and by no time, he’s got the basics covered before their instructor gets there. It was a lady in her thirties with straight hair dyed magenta that fell over her back. She’s practically half android and Renjun would’ve missed it if he wasn’t paying close enough attention. 

“Not good.” She comments when he’s asked to demonstrate all he knows. 

He burns a hole into the tattoo sleeve on her arm as he catches his breath. He knows he’s not good, he doesn’t need her to tell him that. Hearing it out loud, in front of close to 50 people isn’t doing his whole ‘not giving a fuck’ agenda so good.

“But not horrendous. I can work on you.” 

She gives everyone a look. “I’ll assume you’ve all warmed up. We’re going back to basics for today and then continuing where we left off last term.”

Everyone groans. 

Renjun doesn’t shrink easily, but he feels a knot in his spine when she turns back to look at him. “I expect you to keep up. I don’t host pity parties.”

Now, this was the elite murder school image Renjun had in mind.

The basics were just everything Donghyuck had taught him earlier, repeated. Except for this time, he's able to see how much more graceful and brutal it was intended to be. They learn how to parry, simple counter-attack moves. Renjun has his eyes on his blade, but he can't help but sneak glances at others every now and then. Donghyuck was good, from what he could gather. And so was Jeno, who is only a close second when it came to Jisung in the front row.

Apparently, this was also the longest class he had because by the time they had finished, it was almost time for dinner. 

"That's enough for today." Ms Tristan orders, her hand up in the air to stop their movements. And not a moment too soon because Renjun's arms were already wobbly from the unfamiliar weight of the sword in his hold. There's a lot he'll have to get used to, he reminds himself.

"Renjun." She calls out to him and 50 pairs of eyes immediately land on him, almost expectantly.

"Front and centre." She points the tip of her sword to the centre.

The blood in his veins feel almost icy but he hasn't frozen up all day and he definitely isn't going to now. He tightens his grip on the hilt and walks forward.

"Choose someone. Anyone. I want to see you in a duel, real-time."

His eyes scan over the small crowd but don't ignore the name that pops into his head so clearly until his eyes land on the two shades looking back at him, almost challengingly. Finally, an excuse to put someone like Jaemin in his place, it was basically handed to Renjun on a silver platter.

The words come to him faster than his mind is able to think, "Na Jaemin."

So much for avoiding him like the plague, his brain provides.

The stillness that hangs in the air for a split second almost suffocates him. He feels the whispers quicker than he hears them.

Jeno cuts in, "I don't think-"

"No." Tristan doesn't let him finish. This is the first time Renjun has ever seen her look at him with something more than discontent. Intrigue is the brightest colour in her eyes.

"No. I'm interested to see how this will go down." She puts a hand up to her synthetic chin.

"Jaemin." She calls out.

Renjun hates that even now, Jaemin doesn't break. It was as if he was expecting to be called out. Like Renjun was _predictable._ He hated it.

His hand trembles with adrenaline when Jaemin walks up to him, the way it does whenever he gets into fights. For the first time ever since he's gotten here, Renjun feels like himself again and not even this stupid suit can make him feel out of place. 

They shake hands for formalities and get into position. 

He knows he shouldn’t be so eager to attack first. Moves and countermoves were the way to go. But if he doesn’t see Na Jaemin lying flat on his ass right now, he might just combust. 

He goes for a strike toward the chest. 

Jaemin moves at lightning speed to avoid him and Renjun hears it before he sees it—the sound of their blades clashing. He didn’t even see him move. Renjun doesn’t think he’s ever seen _anyone_ move that fast. They lock eyes for a moment, the tension between them starting to pick up. 

He can hear Donghyuck and Jeno’s comments in his head. _‘Retreat and lunge!’_

He does just that. 

One foot before the other, he zeros on the area where Jaemin’s neck and shoulder meets and he strikes. 

He strikes so hard, he doesn’t even want to think if he could stop himself before the blade actually hits skin. He can practically taste the adrenaline on his tongue. It bursts in flavors of rainbows, all sour and sweet at the same time.

But it seems like Jaemin is always one step ahead. All it takes is a look into Renjun’s eyes for him to block his attack, pushing him back until he stumbles on his feet. 

It’s all too fast. 

Renjun doesn’t even process what’s happening until he’s on the ground with his sword limp in his hand. But he does see everything that comes after in slow motion. It was as if time had stopped around them because all he felt was the white hot rage behind his eyes. 

Jaemin hovers over him looking like he barely broke a sweat and for that, Renjun wants to get up and push him off, punch that smirk right off his face. To hell with this duel, and to hell with this sword. His fists work just fine. 

His muscles disagree as he tries to lift himself off the ground. It takes a few futile tries for him to finally understand that he can’t. His arms ache and his thighs are trembling from exhaustion, he doesn’t even remember the last time he’s done this much exercise. 

Jaemin enjoys watching him writhe under him like this, he can tell. He groans when a foot presses onto his forearm, leaving him no choice but to stop his movements. His muscles burn and beg for mercy but Renjun isn’t one to break so easily. 

He stares at him, no matter how unnerving it is to look into that grey eye. 

Jaemin lifts his sword and strikes it right into the mat below them, only a few inches from where his head lies. Even moments after, Renjun can still hear the way it rings in his ear. Now, from this angle, he can see every part of the blade so clearly. Every dent and scrape against it is a memory, a story to be told. And it mocks him to no end. Jaemin has years of experience. 

Tristan claps her hands once, commanding the room's attention almost immediately. “Thank you, Jaemin.” 

Even the way she says it is a punch to Renjun’s pride. 

Everything she says afterwards is just white noise to him. 

  
  
  
  


“Come on, are you still upset about that?” Donghyuck nudges him by the shoulder as he gets out the shower. 

His muscles are still throbbing and they ache with every movement, but he’s nothing if not stubborn so he manages a scowl either way. 

At least the hot water eased a little bit of the pain, the luxury of indoor plumbing and heaters will always be a blessing he’ll never take for granted. Not even the thought of Jackass Jaemin can ruin a good shower for him. 

“Don’t beat yourself up about it. To be fair, Jaemin _is_ the best in the class, I was surprised you even lasted more than 10 seconds.” 

Renjun’s scowl deepens. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?” 

The stall door from behind them creaks open and Jeno emerges, half-naked with a towel over his waist and another on his head—seemingly listening into their conversation. 

“Hyuck’s right. It wasn’t _that_ bad. He’s beaten all of us at one point.” 

He knows he’ll never get used to how comfortable they are at being so vulnerable like this. Half-naked, out in the open. 

Jisung butts in from the side, a shirt thrown over his head. 

“ _Still_ beating us.” He corrects. “The one time I beat him in a duel, he never let me forget about it.” 

Jisung looks like he physically shivered at the memory. If Jaemin was anywhere as brutal as he was today, Renjun doesn’t even want to know the kind of fall had Jisung taken. 

Jeno finishes the story amusedly. “In their next duel, Jaemin had him lying flat on his back in 10 seconds.”

Donghyuck laughs at the memory, pulling his pants up and barely caring that his bare legs were out for display. It makes Renjun wonder how close all of them were. They barely acknowledged each other during meals but here they were chatting, half-naked. All of them were clearly more built than he’ll ever be but at least he was fully clothed. Even though they’re bouncing conversations around like friends, being too comfortable is a weakness and he above all people should know that. 

Friends were never his forte anyway. 

“Point is, Jaemin is the better man when it comes to duels. I grew up with him and never once beat him. I told you he can be a little princey when he wants to be.” 

“Sounds like he’s a little bitch boy to me.” Renjun mumbles. 

He doesn’t expect the eruption of laughter he gets in return. 

Donghyuck swipes a hand over his hair, styling it from the mirror afar. His reddish-brown dyed hair had started to fade into its natural honey-like shade. It suits him, Renjun thinks. Talkative with a mouth that loves nothing more than sweet talking.

“Jaemin is a born killer, Renjun. He had his instincts honed by the time you were still sucking your thumb. Want to stay alive?” He pats Renjun’s chest, a smile teasing on his lips. A non-question not worthy of an answer. 

“I suggest not to hunt him down on your first day here. No matter how much I enjoy watching it.” 

Renjun takes the suggestion with a grain of salt. 

  
  
  
  


The universe seems to enjoy their encounters just as much as Donghyuck does because it never misses an opportunity to make their paths cross. 

Renjun meets Jaemin again, that night in the dorms looking a little more than different. It’s his first time seeing him without his uniform, he notices. His jet black hair isn’t styled neatly anymore and his eyes aren’t as piercing under the lowlights of the dormitory hallways. But even with his hair falling flat on his forehead, dripping with water from the shower, there’s still an edge to him. Jagged and sharp like invisible shards of glass under your feet. 

Renjun really was going to ignore him. Seriously. The hallways were already narrow as they are. He didn’t want to pick a fight. 

But when Jaemin had knocked his shoulder against his, he knew it was on purpose. Jaemin wanted to rile him up. He wanted a reaction. And as much as Renjun hated it, he was going to give him what he wanted. 

“What the fuck is your problem with me?” 

His voice is as clear as crystalline waters in the empty hallway. Everyone should be in bed by now so he doesn’t care about causing a scene. 

For a moment, he thinks Jaemin is going to keep on walking. To leave him riled up and annoyed. Much to his surprise, he turns around carefree. He looks about as calm and collected as when they dueled.

“My problem?” He asks, as if it was the most incredulous thing he’s ever heard. 

Even his footsteps echo in the walls when he walks. Everything about Jaemin is so very loud and calculated. Renjun hates it. 

He stares him down when he stops only a few feet away. “You’re asking me that when you were the one who almost tried to kill me in class?”

Renjun stutters at the accusation. “We were dueling.” 

He knows that’s not enough of an excuse. Even Jaemin sees past this. 

“I saw the way you swung, there was no way you could’ve stopped that strike in time if I hadn’t blocked it myself. It’s a good thing you’re horrible with a sword, I could see it from a mile away. Really, you should be thanking me.”

Jaemin takes a step closer and Renjun instinctively takes a step back. He wants to retaliate, but he can’t. He couldn’t even remember what went through his head when he had striked, all he remembered was the white hot rage pulsing through his veins like a calling. 

“If you had me on the floor, neck sliced open, what then? They’d throw you back out into the streets, _petit rat_. Right where you belong. You owe me.” 

The wall presses into his back when he reaches the end of his limit, but Jaemin still leans closer. 

Under his breath, he says it like it’s a promise between them—all playfulness drained from his face, “If you do that again, I’ll kill you. I don’t know all the rules Donghyuck has told you about this place, but I’ll tell you one I bet he never mentioned. I can’t be kicked out. No matter what I do.” 

_Little rat_ , that’s what Jaemin had called him. 

He’s been called worse. He’s dealt worse than Na Jaemin, an entitled prick living off daddy’s money. 

Renjun has spent the past 19 years surviving, alone and barely getting by. This. This place isn’t the safe haven he thought it was but Donghyuck was right. It’s definitely something and before this, he had nothing. 

This is worth staying. 

Through all its obstacles and complications, Renjun has finally found something worth fighting for.

He pushes Jaemin by the shoulders, his forearm flat out on his throat as he backs him up into the wall beside them. They’ve switched positions now, despite Jaemin doing everything to throw him off. 

Renjun pushes harder against his windpipe and grounds him. 

“I don’t know much about rules, but I have a few of my own.” His own voice sounds gravelly in his ears, “Always trust my gut. Never look back. And never, ever let people like you push me around.” 

His forearm digs deeper into the skin on Jaemin’s throat and he can see the way his veins are starting to bulge around his jaw, no matter how stone-faced he tries to be. 

Renjun sees him struggling hard to get him off and they wrestle back and forth for a bit before Jaemin is pushed back against the wall with a bang. 

“I’ve spent my whole life being pushed around by scum like you. People who think money is power and that it solves everything for you. It leaves the ‘little rats’ like me to suffer at your cost and do your dirty work for you. But that’s not going to happen anymore... because I’m here to stay.” 

He can feel the way Jaemin’s grey eye pierces into his soul, eating at it like a moth. 

“I’m here to stay and I’ll make your life a living hell if I have to. I’ll take apart everything you’ve made here for yourself—your reputation, your skill, your talent. Everything until you wish you hadn’t blocked my strike in class this morning and blew your chances to get me thrown out.” 

“You’re a lot easier than you think, Jaemin. I know you think I have something to lose because now I have a roof on my head and food on the table, but let me tell you, I’ve gone through worse. Between the two of us, you’re the one that has more to lose. So do your worst.”

The wall thuds when Jaemin finally gathers enough strength to push him off. He’s panting and breathes in gulps of air with his hands on his knees, bent over. A piece of Jaemin—improper, uncalculated and quiet—what a sight to revel in. 

He meets Renjun’s eye with the heat of a thousand suns and for a moment, he really thought this was it. He had lost his footing and Jaemin was going to strangle him, right here and now in this vacant hallway. 

Instead, he gets a glare and sees the shape of Jaemin’s back starting to fade as he storms off to his own room without another word. 

To him, this is as close to a win as any. Jaemin may have won the duel in class, but Renjun is sure he has won something bigger tonight. 

**Author's Note:**

> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/813na)   
>  [twt](https://mobile.twitter.com/introblues)


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